Reassurance in the Aftermath
by aehawthorne
Summary: William finds comfort with Felicity in the wake of his father's arrest


For a moment, when William emerges from his bedroom in the morning, everything seems normal. Felicity is sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on her tablet over breakfast, sipping coffee out of the unicorn mug his aunt got her for her birthday. But his dad's not there, not moving around the kitchen with practiced ease, making breakfast, not sliding into the chair next to Felicity's with a fond smile and a kiss on her cheek. And that's when William remembers- they're not at home. They're in an A.R.G.U.S. safehouse somewhere, and his dad is in prison. He doesn't know if he'll ever see him again. A distressed noise escapes him, clawing its way up his chest and throat. Tears sting his eyes.

Felicity glances up at the sound. She's moving toward William before he really has time to process it. She doesn't ask what's wrong. She doesn't have to. She knows. She just pulls him against her and holds him tightly, rubbing his back in soothing circles while he cries. It isn't long before Felicity is crying too before William is holding her as much as she's holding him. Recent events have shaken both of them to their cores, more than they're willing to admit, because they've told themselves- and been told- that they have to be strong.

William doesn't feel strong. He feels like he's going to break and break and break until there's nothing of him left. But he can't. Not even if it's starting to feel like giving in to the pressure would be easier than enduring it. He manages to swallow his tears and pulls away from Felicity. She keeps a hand on his shoulder, tethering them together with the contact. William can see in her eyes that she's wondering how she's supposed to be the sole parent to a kid she's known for less than a year, but he can also see that she's going to try. He loves her for that. In that moment, he thinks he understands just a _tiny_ bit of what his dad feels for her.

"I know this is hard," Felicity says in a soft, reassuring voice. Light glints off her wedding ring as she brushes away tears, and idly William wonders if his dad is wearing his right now if they let him keep it in prison. "I won't lie to you- it's probably going to get worse before it gets better. But I promise you I'll figure it out. I'm already talking to someone who's been through a similar situation. There's a solution somewhere. I'll find it."

"Dad told me we'll have to lean on each other," William says quietly. It's only tangentially related, but it's all that comes to his mind. Felicity nods, her smile soft and sad and full of love. William's heart squeezes in his chest. He feels a lot older than twelve right then.

"He was right," Felicity says. Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. "We've been through some hard times, your dad and I, and the only way we got through them was by leaning on the people closest to us. I'm glad he passed that lesson on to you. It took him a long time to learn it." William nods. That tracks with what he's been told his dad was like in the past, if not with his own experiences.

"I might have to lean on you more than you have to lean on me," he reluctantly admits. He hates the thought of being seen as weak. He supposes he's a lot like his dad in that way.

"And that's fine," Felicity assures him, evidently seeing some outward sign of his inner turmoil. "You're just a kid, William. Nobody expects you to be the strongest person in the room." William nods, wishing he felt entirely reassured. He gains an understanding in that moment- they are, together, just two people standing on the edge of a precipice, trying to figure out how to navigate around the hole that had suddenly been ripped in the fabric of their lives.

Felicity pulls William in for another hug, holding him so tightly that it's as if she's trying to put their broken family back together- in whatever form that takes- through sheer physical force alone.

"We'll get through this," she murmurs, though it sounds like she's trying to reassure herself more than him. "Somehow." William nods, his face pressed against her shoulder, and pulls away. He continues on his previous trajectory, into the kitchen, and Felicity sits back down at the table. A heavy silence settles over the room. For a moment, William watches his stepmother work, wondering who she knows who's been in a similar situation to the one they're in now. He hears her mutter to herself as she types, something about how she refuses to leave Oliver to languish in prison, even if the stubborn idiot _had_ put himself there. That gets a smile out of him. Even if it's just a small one, he hadn't thought he'd have _any_ reason to smile in the wake of recent events, and he's immensely grateful to find one now.

Felicity made people's lives easier, William realizes. She excelled at it. He hates to think where he would be, where his dad would be, where any of them would be without her. He knows that he, at least, would be alone, and his dad might be in a much worse place than prison. In that moment, he is thankful that they're not. Someday, he thinks, when he's older and all this has passed, he'll find the words with which with to thank Felicity for everything she has done for him. And if he can one day find a way to pay her kindness back in kind, well then so much the better.

"Felicity?" he asks, thinking that he can at least get a start at it. When she looks up from her work, he smiles in a way that only feels _slightly_ forced, and says, simply, "Thank you."


End file.
